Because I Love You
by spiritypowers
Summary: No matter how much time passes, some things never change. For Bolin and Opal, one of those things is love. / a collection of Bopal oneshots, canonverse unless noted otherwise
1. Home

There are few times when he's very quiet. Even in serious situations, sometimes he'd have trouble allowing the gravity of the situation to bring him down to earth. And it wasn't that he didn't try. It was that life was too vibrant and fast to keep silent about anything. He could even find something to say about the silence. Heck, sometimes he'd fill an awkward silence by commenting on the awkwardness of the silence.

But it was in these moments, with Opal tucked into his side, her head resting against his shoulder, her eyes closed in sleep, that words somehow didn't seem like enough. (And, besides, he didn't want to wake her.) One of her hands, small and still, was rested on his bare chest, and he'd rested one of his own on top of hers, content to stroke his thumb over her fingers. His other arm was tucked under her, wrapping around her waist, rumpling the end of her camisole, pulling her closer. (That arm was starting to get numb, but he didn't mind.)

She snores in her sleep. It's soft, just a step below a low hum, and she's so, so still. The first time they'd shared a bed, he'd somehow ended up with his head at the foot of the bed and his heels against the headboard, but Opal had remained in the same curled up position the entire time, as still as a statue till she woke and took on the day. And she's still in his arms right now, as he watches her sleep (he hopes it's not as creepy as it sounds), her only movement the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the slight parting of her lips between each breath.

He can count her eyelashes - or at least, he could if he tried, he gave up somewhere at 73 - and her eyelids are so smooth, like satin, and he suspects that's what they would feel like if he reached out and touched them now.

Not that he's going to. Because he definitely does not want to wake her up.

But it's more than just that that renders him silent. And it's not even the awkward, thick, heavy silence that comes after he tries to lighten the mood in a situation where mood-lightening comes Too Soon and all eyes are on him as if everyone else in the room is thinking, "There goes Bolin again." It's a light, airy silence, like the breeze that always seems to be caught in Opal's hair, perpetually and perfectly windswept. It's the silence of a rainy day spent inside, the silence of an embrace before walking into battle.

Sometimes it still surprises him when he thinks about how different things are with her. Because in the past, any romantic interest in anyone always started off with a spark, a wave of admiration (and, in Eska's case, fear), an urge to fill the space between him and the target of his affections with words.

With Opal, it was a warmth. The glowing of a hot ember that he'd almost missed, one that he hadn't known what to do with at first. And he'd tried to fill the space between them with words, like always - unnecessary ones, at one point, and her simple "Just be yourself" had somehow cut the majority of them out, even if they both knew that he'd always have much more to say - and it was…different. A good different.

It had been harder, too. Spirits, it had been so hard sometimes. She'd held him accountable in ways he'd never really considered before, and while he loved his brother, Korra and Asami, they'd never really done that for him in the same way. They'd always waved it off as Bolin being naive and idealistic and the youngest of Team Avatar, and he'd thought that was enough.

Opal had expected more from him. Opal had _seen_ more in him, and somehow, even though it was hard…it only added to that warm glow he'd felt the moment she'd entered his life. Even if it guaranteed times that he'd have to look harder at himself, even when it took more than a simple, "I'm sorry. Picnic now?" to mend things.

Maybe it was _because_ he had to look harder at himself sometimes. Maybe it was because he really had to try to figure out where the constant flow of mindless words wouldn't fix things, where he had to work harder to listen, to understand how to truly mend things again.

And Opal, sweet, smart Opal, was always so much more patient with him than people knew sometimes - maybe even more than she meant to be sometimes. Maybe more than he felt he sometimes deserved. And no matter how badly he'd mess up, no matter how many times it took him to when and where to choose his words carefully, she was always so patient, in her own way, always so willing to teach him where to begin working to fix things once he stopped his antics long enough to own up to his own mistakes.

And the calm that came after, the relative peace and quiet, was always so, so worth it. Maybe it wasn't the constant excitement and bustle of traveling around the world with Asami, Korra, and Mako, maybe it wasn't an easy fix, but it filled him up like a warm meal after years on the street, like the relief of finding all his friends safe and sound after the final battle with Kuvira in Republic City.

It occurs to him in that moment, as he strokes his fingers through Opal's hair, skipping over a tangle so that her sleep isn't disturbed, that silence doesn't always have to be empty or uncomfortable. It's not always an endless void he can't escape, a labyrinth he'll never stop wandering. Sometimes…it's home.

 _Home_. Home, the roof that he'd never had over his head but the security he'd never lacked because Mako was always with him on that lumpy mattress of garbage. Home, the moments of buzzing, excited silence in a Team Avatar huddle before Korra filled them in on the plan. Home, the immediate warmth and peace in Grandma Yin's hugs, and during any and every meal with his countless cousins.

Home - the way having Opal in his arms seems to make the world slow down, its colours growing brighter as the space between them evaporates.

Home. The fact that it's not just his place in the world and her place separately, but both of theirs, voluntarily shared.

Sometimes silence isn't empty. Sometimes, just sometimes, it's home.


	2. The Best Part of Waking Up

She's the first one up in the morning, her mind still cozy in bed as her body goes on autopilot, reluctantly disentangling herself from her boyfriend's arms before sliding off the bed and zombie-walking to the kitchen, her hands taking over for her absent brain as she gets the coffee maker brewing her favourite cup of ambition (the only thing she can actually make, she thinks begrudgingly), because Spirits knows she needs it to get through the next several hours of the day.

He's the last one up in the morning, the scent of her still on him, the warmth of her body still imprinted in her side of the mattress, and it nearly lulls him back to sleep before he remembers that he's got a whole new day to conquer, an entire 17 new hours of potential adventure, even if that adventure is as simple as picking up some leeks from the market that afternoon. He tumbles out of bed, the scent of dark coffee and the familiar padding footsteps of his girlfriend guiding him to the kitchen.

The rim of her mug is not what first kisses her sleepy lips awake, but his, soft and always so, so sincere, murmuring a tired, "Good morning, Opal" against her mouth before he finally pulls away.

And then she's no longer on autopilot, but slowly waking up as Bolin pulls a pan out of one of the cupboards and turns on the stove, his voice a little less tired as he asks how she wants her eggs that morning. Within a matter of minutes, he's got four poached eggs on a plate and she has two mugs of coffee in their favourite mugs (black for her, extra cream for him), and then she's wide awake when she finds them sitting next to one another, quietly sharing breakfast, their knees brushing as she leans back and takes a sip of her coffee. And when they're done with their eggs and his hand finds hers under the table, it's impossible not to think that their mornings are better than anyone else's.

Because, really, the best part of waking up is being able to start every day the same way they always have for the past few years, and how they plan to start it every day for the rest of their lives - together.


End file.
